


Just a Bit of Pain for Pleasure

by reliand



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Double Penetration, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, Tattoos, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliand/pseuds/reliand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Nope. You’re going to help hold him down,” Derek says as he splays his hand across Stiles’ chest, pushing him back towards Scott. “So that we can double team him,” he finishes with a barely there smirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Bit of Pain for Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jinxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxy/gifts).



> This has not seen a beta, but since I have a terrible, filthy mind, this is immediately what it jumped to when Derek made that comment...and thus couldn't wait. Enjoy!

“Nope. You’re going to help hold him down,” Derek says as he splays his hand across Stiles’ chest, pushing him back towards Scott. “So that we can double team him,” he finishes with a barely there smirk.

Stiles eyes go comically wide, as does his mouth, which is nothing Derek hasn’t seen before, but it’s been four months and is a nice reminder of what he’s giving up by letting them live _normal_ lives.

Scott chokes. “Um, what? No way dude. The last thing I need is another open wound.”

Stiles snorts and looks unsure of touching his friend, and Derek rolls his eyes. “That was obviously a joke.”

“Ha. Yeah. Good one,” Scott tells him as Stiles’ hands settle on his shoulders.

“Your sense of humor still needs some work,” Stiles says with a raised brow that is definitely judging him, which is just unfair. He’s been practicing all summer. Peter thinks he is funny. “You’ll never get rid of us, if you start joking about sex. We’re teenage boys after all.” He winks again, because he’s a fucker and then Derek is flicking on the blow torch.

The first lick of flame across Scott’s skin has him grimacing, trying to hold back his cries as he pushes backward, away from Derek and into Stiles’ grip.

“Hold him,” Derek says sharply and the boy’s hands tighten as Scott’s screams begin to fill the house. Stiles’ effort is nice to look at, because he’s not here to hold anyone. Scott could shrug him off in a moment. Stiles is here to ground him, and perhaps be the cause of some of Derek’s amusement. Stiles’ face says he is disgusted by what the flames are doing to Scott’s arm. Derek can see his mouth contorting in revulsion out of his periphery, and it’s no wonder.

It looks as bad as Derek remembers it feeling when Laura helped burn the ink back to the surface. Scott’s skin bubbles when he leaves the flame for more than a few seconds, turning mottled and black and then bloody. Scott passes out sometime around the third pass along the bigger ring.

Stiles instantly catches him, holds his weight while Derek continues to work and when he flicks his eyes up he sees Stiles still watching.

“You need to look away,” he cautions, “the torch can damage your eyes.” He’d seen a human with heat burns on their eyes before and it wasn’t pleasant. Stiles complies though; doesn’t argue or have some snarky comment up his sleeve. “Also, is there some reason you’re wearing so many layers?” He asks. “You do realize how hot it is out there, right?” It’s just as sweltering inside the house, proven by the sweat covering Scott, or the thick scent of ammonia coming off Stiles, which tells him that teen has been eating nothing but junk recently.

Stiles huffs at him though, smile forming around his lips. “If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Derek rolls his eyes but doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “when we’re done with this.” Stiles splutters and Derek can see his cheeks pinking out of the corner of his eye. They work for a few more minutes in silence, and for Derek in scent, because he can smell the sharp arousal now and perhaps Stiles was right to warn him about making sex jokes.

When Derek finally shuts the torch off, Scott’s arm is a mess. He tears off a piece of Isaac’s hospital gown to wipe the blood away and it’s actually fascinating to see the charred flesh heal under his fingertips. He didn’t get to see any of this process when it was him in Scott’s position. Frankly, it would have been too hard to look and see what his family might have looked like all over. It was much too soon. The skin becomes black with the bands Scott chose for his tattoo and he strokes the pads of his fingers across them until Stiles clears his throat.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I don’t have never ending werewolf strength. My arms are getting kinda tired here.”

Derek goes to help him, taking Scott’s feet while Stiles grabs his shoulders so they can lay him on the floor. It really should be the simplest task ever, but instead Stiles stumbles under the weight, causing Derek to trip and pitch forward where they end up in a heap…Stiles on bottom.

“Fuck, dude,” he complains. “You guys are heavy.” Derek can feel him trying to move beneath him and Scott, shifting his hips and Scott gasps awake.

He seems startled that Derek is on top of him, but then he sees his arm and smiles. “It worked.” It kind of sets something off inside Derek because Scott never looks at him like that. Happy and a little bit in awe, like he had doubts but Derek proved him wrong. To Scott, everything Derek usually does is wrong, and to actually get something right for the teen, makes him smile right back.

Scott quirks his head at him, like he’s seeing something for the first time and then Stiles is pushing at them. “I need up. I’m getting all sweaty and gross.” Scott freezes and Derek scents the air again, notices the smell of ammonia has magnified.

“Dude. Are you hard?” Scott asks uncertainly.

“No!” Stiles splutters indignantly and shoves at the back of Scott’s shoulders. In retaliation, Scott pushes right back and a whine escapes Stiles’ throat.

“You totally are!” Scott eyes Derek curiously. “What the hell were you two doing while I was out?”

“Trust me dude, you weren’t out long enough for that,” Stiles grouses, and instead of pushing at his friend again, Derek can feel his hips rock upward. He takes that as his cue to get up, but Stiles grabs his shoulder, wraps those long fingers around the back of his neck. “Fuck you, man. You suddenly becoming funny is what got my dick interested, so you’re going to help me take care of it.”

Derek should disagree. Scott definitely seems to make a noise of protest, but then Stiles is blowing a hot breath of air against his ear and that noise becomes a groan…and Derek can feel Scott’s dick stir through their jeans.

He wants to back away, but the hand Stiles doesn’t have wrapped up in Derek’s shirt, pulling him closer, is tapping a staccato burst against Scott’s pulse point. Sweat is beading there, right above his clavicle, and Stiles’ fingers look graceful against the line of Scott’s throat.

Derek growls and surges forward, burying his face there and Stiles says, “yeah, that’s it,” and that’s all it takes for him to get his hands beneath his belly to undo Scott’s jeans.

“Lift up,” he tells him and then looks up to see Stiles watching him. “You too. Get your jeans off. Now.”

He holds Scott’s weight as Stiles scrambles out of his jeans. Kind of. He rucks them to about his ankles and then they get trapped because his shoes are still on, and Derek has only a moment to think that his butt is going to get covered in ash, and then Scott’s dick is in his hand. He’s not fully hard, but he can see the skin tightening where it’s being engorged with blood. It’s heated, like the rest of his skin and he immediately starts rutting into Derek’s grip, so he tightens his hold, feeling the wetness of sweat instead of precome because it has literally been as hot as balls in Scott’s pants.

“I need someone to touch me too, or I am not going to talk to either of you ever again,” Stiles whines.

Derek and Scott both look back at him, where he’s pouting and Derek responds with, “I really don’t think your brand of bribery is going to work.”

“Asshole.”

“I’ll get to you in second. Let me stretch Scott open a bit.”

Wait, what?” Scott panics, and Derek rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure you know the mechanics of this, so it would be foolish to explain it.”

“No, I know the mechanics, but I thought we were just going to give mutual hand jobs and never speak of this again,” Scott insists. “Or at least Stiles would be the one getting fucked. He’s the one that wan—”

“Oh my God! If somebody doesn’t touch my dick I’m going to start biting!”

Derek smirks at him. “Try to be a bit more patient.” Then he’s spiting onto his fingers and sliding a hand down Scott’s sweaty sack and pushing at his hole. “Relax. This isn’t going to hurt at all compared to what you just went through, and I’d rather not hear Stiles whine through this entire experience.”

Stiles scowls at him, looking like a petulant child, but Derek’s already got two fingers working Scott open. “Feels weird,” he says.

“You’ll get over that,” Derek reassures. He hasn’t ever done this with a guy before, but anal doesn’t have to be unpleasant. You just have to know what you’re doing. He pulls his fingers out and then lifts Scott’s weight. Stiles dick is laying hard across his thigh, and without the body pinning it down, Stiles gives it a few tugs and then Derek tells him to line it up.

“I’ve never really—”

Derek sighs but says, “Scott, grab my shoulders,” which he does to steady himself and then he’s grabbing Stiles dick.

“Oh fuck!” Stiles gasps. Derek is quick about it, almost clinical as he puts the tip against Scott’s hole and then he’s shoving the teen down on his best friend’s dick. “Oh my God!”

“Fuck! Dude—warn a guy,” Scott admonishes, but he doesn’t even take a moment to start bouncing in Stiles’ lap. Stiles pulls him against his chest, holding him in place, and Derek thinks they make a nice picture like this. A contrast of color and angles, and yet equal parts enthusiasm as they try to push against each other. Derek does one better and slaps Scott’s legs open.

“Let me in,” he tells him and when Scott’s cock is on display, Stiles’ dick disappearing into his hole, he leans in, licking down the expanse of his dick as he whimpers. Derek only mouths at his balls for a moment and the stench of boy is strong here. It is musty with sweat and even more with that distinct scent of ammonia as his nose gets closer to Stiles, and then Derek is licking right along Scott’s hole.

Scott’s breath hitches and he mutters, “dude…gross,” so Derek spits on the stretched skin in retaliation. It’s the worst punishment ever because it just helps slick the way for Stiles whose hips are stuttering and he places a hand on the teen’s thigh to calm him. Stop him.

“Don’t you dare come yet.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna be easy,” he pouts, but he’s stopped moving and starts mouthing at Scott’s neck. Derek moves his face back to between their legs, mouth against where they are joined. His lips are dragging against Stiles’ cock and he is probably giving them both beard burn along their thighs, but he keeps it sloppy. Just how he likes it.

He’s letting his saliva pool against Scott’s entrance, licking along his rim and then he’s forcing a finger inside, right beside Stiles’ dick. There’s a desperate roll of Scott’s hips and when he tries to shove another finger in immediately the teen startles. “Holy hell. What are you doing?”

“Shush,” Derek commands and keeps going even though it’s so fucking tight along his walls. Stiles is trying to keep his hips still. They are moving in aborted little thrusts as he whines, and when Derek leans up, letting his fingers free with a _pop_ , he sees Stiles is tugging at Scott’s hair. Scott looks wrecked, but in a pleasant way instead of what transpired not twenty minutes ago.

Derek works himself out of his jeans quickly. All the way off, because they’re fucking tight and he’ll need some leg room for this. He only strokes himself a couple times before he’s pushing at Scott and Stiles, getting them more on their backs so he can slide between Scott’s legs a bit easier. Then he’s lining himself up against Scott’s hole.

“ _Wait,”_ Scott says. “Wait, I don’t think I can do this.” His voice is quivery and fucked out, even though they haven’t gotten to the main event. Not quite.

“Sure you can,” Derek croons, and Stiles nods his agreement, groaning into Scott’s skin. He is past coherency, but he definitely understands what they are about to do. Stiles pulls almost all the way out so Derek can line their dicks up together. “Your little hole will open right up for us,” he tells him and pushes his way in before Scott can protest.

Scott cries out though, grabs at Derek’s shoulders and scrabbles at his skin. Derek gets it, he does. It’s so fucking tight that it’s verging on painful. He’s pressed along his walls, pushed tight against Stiles, and he nuzzles his face into Scott’s arm, puts his lips against his tattoo.

He gives Scott a few moments of muttered, “ _fucks,”_ and, _“holy shit, oh my god! Feels so full…”_ and then he starts moving. Him and Stiles together; ramming thrusts that don’t quite synchronism and then go counterpoint, so when he is pulling out, Stiles is pushing back in. Scott is panting hard between them, and when Derek leans back he can see the red stretch of Scott’s swollen rim.

“God, I wish you could see this,” he tells them. “So fucking hot.”

“Oh God!” Stiles gasps. “I wanna see. It’s so tight. It hurts,” he says, but it’s more like a moan so he doesn’t think Stiles really means it. He leans forward, grabbing a handful of Stiles hair and kisses him over Scott’s shoulder. It’s messy, not a lot of finesse. Just tongue and spit and Stiles groaning into mouth, teeth clacking as they thrust in and out of Scott.

Scott turns his head towards them, so Derek kisses him too. He’s surprised by how delicate he is about it. Sweet and more experienced, but Derek had expected the kind of passion he usually pits against Derek. It seems more like an apology and Derek breathes in his taste to accept it. Stiles is mouthing along his jaw; bites it, hard and sudden, and then the slide inside Scott is much easier. It’s slick and wet and Stiles slips out along with some of his come, kissing the mark he made with his teeth, and Derek follows like he’s falling over a cliff. His orgasm rips through him just as he’s getting used to Scott being sloppy and open for him.

He grabs at them both, trying to bring them closer as he convulses and spills inside of the boy he wants to be his brother.

It’s so wrong, when he thinks it, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling out of Scott before he’s even soft and sliding down his body to take his dick in his mouth. Scott only lasts a few thrusts and then he jerks hard, and come starts gushing out the sides of Derek’s mouth.

He swallows most of it, and when he looks up, both Stiles and Scott are looking down at him.

“Please tell me we can do that again,” Stiles begs, shirt soaked through with sweat.

Scott snorts. “I guess you weren’t joking after all.”


End file.
